


The Lord is testing me

by Caprica_Janeway



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2731745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprica_Janeway/pseuds/Caprica_Janeway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack turns up on Andy's doorstep annoyed, and looking for Sharon. A character piece to answer the question of how the two characters know each other and where their "friendship" stands today. Set shortly after Sharon's divorce with some references to a possible Sharon/Andy pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lord is testing me

_Knock, knock._

"What the ever loving hell?!" Andy yelled into his pillow.

_Knock, knock._

"I know you're in there! Answer the damn door!", came the all too familiar voice from outside.

"Jesus, god what the hell?”

Andy rolled to his side and rubbed his eyes till the foggy red dots on his old digital radio converged into readable numbers.

"2am! 2 fucking am! Damn it!"

Andy sat up and tapped his bedside lamp on as he felt around for his sweatpants. He was usually a lot more organised then the current state of his bedroom would attest to, but after working so many long hours lately his customary good habits had gone off course - much like his pants.

"Ouch!" He yelled, banging his head on the corner of the bed side table as he reached around for the missing pants.

_Knock, knock._

"I heard you the first time! Wait a damn minute will you?!"

Andy pulled on his sweatpants and ran a quick hand through his hair. He recognised the voice that had bellowed at him from his front door and had no reason to make himself look good for this particular pain in the ass. 

Staggering across the lounge room he swatted light switches on as he went - of course the lights only came on after he had kicked his toe on his couch and then his coffee table. Eventually he kicked the hall lamp which thankfully with its in built touch sensor turned itself on.

"Jack, what the hell are you doing here? And this early in the morning?"

Andy was leaning one arm against the door frame while his other hand ran through his hair.

"What? No hello?" He said punctuating the last word as if it was something he wanted to spit out.

"Have you been drinking? You smell like a frat boy and what the hell? How do you even remember where I live after all these years?"

"Somethings you don't forget," he said as he pushed past a still sleepy and some what confused Andy Flynn.

"...now where is she?" He demanded.

"Who? Sharon?"

"Who else?" He asked planting himself on Andy's couch.

"You're not staying. Get off my couch Jack.”

Andy walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. His patience was at an all time low and this is the last person he felt like dealing with tonight, particularly now that he could clearly smell the three to four beers on the man's breath.

"I'll have one thanks!" Jack yelled out from the couch.

"Excuse me? I didn't invite you to stay. I'm merely in here trying to resist the urge to use my fists in an inappropriate use of force.”

Jack began laughing much to Andy's confusion. Coming out of the kitchen and standing in front of the louse he looked the man over.

"You've been hanging out with my wife for far too long my friend.” He said pointing a clumsy finger up at Andy.

"I'm not your friend and perhaps you've forgotten but I asked you to leave."

"Well she's not in your bedroom, because knowing my Sharon she would have gotten up by now and put in her own two cents worth."

"Bedroom, really?" 

He wasn't listening and instead he started wandering around the kitchen like he was looking for something.

"She might be small but you aren't going to find her in the kitchen cupboards." Andy said closing the cupboard door, dangerously close to Jack’s head.

"I was damn sure she'd be here."

"With the breakfast bowls?" Andy replied pulling out two glasses from the next cupboard.

"No you idiot, with you - I thought she'd be with you."

Andy filled up the two glasses with water ignoring the man next to him who was eagerly waiting for some kind of response. He finally looked up at Jack who was less angry and more curious, and passed him the glass of water.

"Drink it then leave," he said taking a sip of his own drink.

"...and when you do leave don't bother looking for her, she doesn't need the grief."

Jack surprised Andy by silently taking the drink offered and not barking back in response. He drank most of the water and put the glass on the bench, twisting it curiously between his thumb and finger.

"We used to be friends, remember?"

Andy found a place on the wall that caught his eye and allowed himself a moment to take a breath and contemplate whether he should do something about repainting the kitchen one day.

"One for joy, two for grief - remember?" He prompted again, walking into Andy's line of sight.

“You can keep your walk down memory lane, I’m not in the mood.”

"I was your damn friend! We looked out for each other, remember? You at least managed your way home safely when I was around. You..." He began pointing his finger into Andy's chest.

"...you still owe me! I was there for you plenty of times, so how about returning the favour?"

Andy picked up his glass and left the kitchen. Drinking the last of his water, he carefully placed his glass on the coffee table and took a seat in the recliner. Closing his eyes for a moment he took a deep breath and started to let his mind count to ten. By the time he got to seven he heard the sound of a body settling themselves in the couch next to him.

"Why are you drinking again Jack? And don't use your ex-wife as an excuse."

"She was my wife, at least up until last week."

"That's not what I asked you." He replied, finally turning around to see the man rubbing his fingers against his temple. 

Jack's hangover was going to be a bad one if he hadn't been drinking for a while. Andy got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. He took a look in the mirror and splashed some cool water on his face. He stayed there for a while and examined the increasingly dense lines that framed his eyes and cheeks. He remembered another place with its smells of liquor and smoke - there was something else in the air too, something sickly. 

—————-

_Moments earlier he had been sick in the stall behind him and a noisy, slightly annoying stocky man he briefly remembered from a case earlier that year, had come to help him off the floor. He said his name was Jack Raydor, he was a lawyer and that would usually be enough to withdraw from his presence but in his current condition he could do with any help that was being offered._

_"You should really eat more" he had said._

_"...drinking on an empty stomach is never a great idea and you looked like you were trying to drown yourself.”_

_He never answered him, he just watched the man's reflection behind him and beside his own. The drink could cloud some of his vision but not everything. He saw the familiar strain of something across the man's brow. There was a weight that sat there, not of a man who was burdened by a great cause or misfortune, but of one accumulated through unguarded weakness. He had let his own frailties and cowardice roam free too often, and the guilt of being less than had edged deep burrowing lines across his forehead._

_"You got any other great ideas?" Andy asked._

_Jack just smirked with an upturned grin and threw him a pack of gum._

_"Chew this, you've got the breath of a sailor on three days leave."_

—————-

Andy wasn't sure what he was looking at, whether it was the reflection of himself now or the man he knew years ago. He was tired and no amount of water or rubbing his face was going to take away the burden currently sitting in his lounge room. He opened the cupboard and took out a couple of aspirin. Walking back into the kitchen he ignored Jack and filled his glass again. Without any words he passed him the aspirin and water and returned to his chair.

“Thanks." Jack replied as he took the pills.

"Remember that blonde that used to always sit in Freddy's bar on a Wednesday? God she was a stunner, and she was always hanging off one of us laughing at our jokes. What was her name? Jules? Jennifer? One of the J words"

_Justine._

Andy turned around, more exhausted than angry. He wondered how long Jack was going to sit here and how many blasts from the past he'd have to sit through before he could go back to bed. He had no idea how he was supposed to explain this to Sharon. He knew he'd have to say something before the bumbling idiot showed up at work and put his own spin on the evening.

"Her name was Justine and she was a prostitute."

"Hmm really?"

"Yeah really Jack.” Andy replied pushing himself up to fetch a magazine from a stack that had haphazardly been placed on the floor, but as he turned around his curiosity got the better of him.

"Why were you looking for Sharon? And why this early in the morning?"

Jack sat forward in his seat and leaned his head in his hands.

"I had to check something."

"Check something?"

"You don't remember do you?”

—————-

_Freddy's bar had been overcrowded with the worst kinds of people that night - karaoke performers. Andy wasn't sure the reasons behind Freddy's sudden need to revamp his establishment but he didn't like it, and he also didn't like having to stop his new found drinking buddy from hitting on every woman in sight._

_"You told me you have a wife Jack, maybe you should keep it in mind.”_

_Jack's ludicrous grin at the woman next to him noticeably slumped as she walked away from him and Andy._

_"Really Andy? She liked me.”_

_"She likes anyone who will pay her. Save yourself the grief and stick to your wife.”_

_"I don't have a wife, I have a statue. I carved her out of stone, made her perfect and then she came to life and now sits back mocking me."_

_Andy just rolled his eyes at Jack and took another drink._

_"You really have a flair for the dramatic don't you?"_

_Jack looked over to his friend and pointed his finger clumsily at his chest._

_"She sits aloft and judges me. I made her too perfect and I can't even meet her eyes. Do you know what it's like never to be good enough for someone? To have your weaknesses reflected back in their disappointed eyes?"_

_Andy didn't answer, he just folded the cardboard coaster to the right of him and tapped it on the side of the bar while he waited for the bartender._

_"She's going to leave. Eventually she'll work out she doesn't need me and she'll find someone who remembers the kid's birthdays and knows what her favourite perfume is, and she'll put my meagre belongings in a bag and shoe me out the door like this week's trash."_

_"Jack, why do you even care? You've got a good job and you'd obviously rather be here then with your family. What would it matter if she gave you the last big heave and kicked you out? You're lucky you even have the option to stick around. Do you know how much I would give to turn back time to have that option again?"_

_"I don't want to be reminded that I'm not good enough. I hear it enough in my head, but for Sharon to say it - that would break me."_

_"So she finally has a name. Sharon huh? Sharon Raydor? Sounds familiar but I can't quite place it."_

_"You're at least two drinks too far gone to remember that name, but my god when you do you're going to understand why I live in fear."_

_"Well as I'm too far gone and you aren't even there yet, shall we get another round?"_

_"Mmm maybe, I got call her. I need to check something, I need to know."_

_"Know what?"_

_"Drinks one and two I'm full of confidence and think I can take on the world, and sometimes I say stupid things - make calls I regret. By the time I eat some food I start to clear a little but not enough to remember what I've said. I gotta know Andy - I gotta know whether I said something stupid to her. She can't hate me you know. When she looks down on me, the whole world does."_

_Andy looked over at his sometimes friend. All he could hear was the sound of a fuck up who needed to know the extent of his fuck up. He rubbed his head in his hand trying to remember anything he knew about the wife or why her name sounded so familiar. He couldn't see it, his brain wouldn't allow it._

_"So what do you do if she does tell you that you're an asshole and a disappointment?"_

_"One for joy, two for grief." He replied._

_"What the hell does that mean?"_

_Andy was too tired and strung out for his bullshit dramatics again._

_"If she's ok I celebrate with another drink and make my way home on a high. If she chews me out I have another two or three and crawl my way back into bed after she leaves for work."_

_"And that's your system?"_

_"That's survival.”_

—————-

It wasn't like this was the only time Jack had introduced Andy to his survival technique. The man was infinitely aware of his failings, yet comfortable in his uncomfortableness not to change them. The routine of drink, regret, remorse and drink again was possibly the only element of stability in Jack's life. If anything it had at least allowed Sharon to know her husband was still breathing.

_Sharon._

God, if he had only understood her then like he did now. If he had only been clear-headed enough and less of an idiot then to slap some sense into her husband, maybe...maybe it was best not to entertain those thoughts. Even when she became his boss he'd been under the misguided illusion that she had some how accepted Jack's behaviour. That his boisterousness was just a part of his charm that she tolerated. Becoming her friend, sharing meals and memories only further complicated his past experience with her now ex-husband.

"She's not your wife any more. Why are you going down this road again?"

"One last absolution. I was used to the swings and roundabouts with her, even after the drinking stopped. It's a game I guess I didn't realise I needed. You can call it pathetic but she really loved me, and knowing that's not there any more can break a person. It may sound corny, but you don't really know love until you are loved by that woman - she is selfless to a fault.”

"Maybe you should have worked on loving her, instead of draining away any love she had left for you.”

It came out a little more bitterly than Andy had intended but he was pissed. He was angry and fed up with the selfishness of the man. The way he used Sharon, pushing and pulling in every direction, testing her compassion and her love like that - not to mention using him in the process. It was truly a testament to the loving person that Sharon was that it hadn't made her bitter and that she was still able to love her children fiercely, particularly the newest member of her family, Rusty.

"So I guess you're back to the same old excuses. Using your now ex-wife as a reason to drink. If you think I'm going to indulge you than you're wrong." Andy said as he got out of his chair.

“The last time I talked to her I said somethings I regret. Even if she doesn’t love me anymore I’d like her not to think so badly of me.”

“It’s still all about you and how you’re perceived - no wonder you're still on this stupid merry go round. You just don't get it.”

“Oh? and what am I not getting?”

“You always described Sharon as something you made - forged out of stone I believe were your words. That she became something bigger than you, looking down on you, only seeing disappointment. Did it ever occur to you that she made herself? That while you wasted your days and nights battling against your own stupidity, she forged ahead in spite of you. No one created Sharon and no one should put her on a pedestal either. She may be better than the both of us - hell who am I kidding? She is better than the both of us. But she isn’t looking down from her tower judging us, she’s too busy pushing her way forward, carving out her own path.”

“So what makes you so different? You obviously like her, romantically or otherwise, I’ve been told you two spend a lot of time together outside the office. Don’t you feel her gaze constantly accessing you?”

“It’s in your head Jack. It’s always been in your head. I don’t claim to not feel like I’m out of my league when I’m around her. I know how special she is, but she isn’t judging me and she wasn’t judging you. It was always your own damn insecurity turning her into something she wasn’t, and I was an idiot for believing you all those years."

Jack leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. His dull gaze drifted toward a small section of peeling paint around the hanging celling light. He wondered how long ago the paint had started peeling and whether Andy ever intended on fixing it. He thought about Sharon and how she would meticulously make lists of things that needed to be fixed around the house. She had lists of lists, but she always made his to do list small and manageable. She understood how easily he became overwhelmed when he was given too many tasks. He had always found her method a little condescending, as if she assumed he was only capable of so much. It rarely occurred to him that she was simply trying to make him feel accomplished in whatever he could offer her.

"I went looking for her."

"Sharon?"

"No, Justine. Yeah I remembered her name - I was testing you to see if you remembered her too."

Jack leaned forward again and rubbed his hands against his scalp, unwilling to meet Andy's eyes.

"She was the one who clued me into my stupidity all those years ago. She was the one I eventually listened to the first time I gave up the booze. Back in the day after you told Justine I was married, it took a long while for her to start talking to me again. But eventually that old Raydor charm won out, and while you were off - wherever the hell you used to go, I got to talk to her and I didn't feel a steely-eyed gaze looking back at me."

Andy took a closer look at the man. He was pouring his guts out, and as much as he didn't want to know, part of him had to know more.

"Jack, did you have an affair with her?"

"No, that ship had sailed that night you kindly reminded her I had a wife. No this was different, this was someone who was sober enough to be my eyes, but low enough to see my perspective on things. I don't know how, but she convinced me to at least drop the booze - I never told her about the gambling though. We had this place we'd meet at - you remember that park two blocks away from Freddy's near the old community hall? Right there was where we would meet, once a week for years while I lived in LA. I thought to myself, now that I'm back in town I should meet up with her and do the right thing and look out for her for a change..."

"And what happened?"

"I figured I couldn't just expect her to be in the same places from all those years ago so I got in contact with a private detective I often use and got him to try and track her down."

"Is this the same private detective you've had follow Sharon for the last few months?"

“I guess, maybe. Any way it turns out the only contact he could find was a son of Justine's that I never even knew existed. I talked to him on the phone, he was quiet but he had the same kind of sense of humour that she had and he agreed to meet me at the park. The kid that came up to me was a revelation. He couldn't be much older than Rusty, similar demeanour, cagey sense of humour, even the same hair cut. Trent was his name, he told me about his mum. How she had fought for as long as she could. How she'd developed ovarian cancer a year ago and it had been a rough ride but she had remained positive throughout. Unfortunately she had picked up an infection during her last hospital visit and it had killed her before the cancer had a chance to finish the job."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How's the kid?"

"That's the thing, this kid had grown up with everything against him. That said, his mother despite her job and the assholes she encountered on a daily basis had raised him to become a self assured, bright, funny young man, and all I could think about was Rusty. All I could think about was me complaining and wanting to be compensated for my troubles if Sharon decided to adopt Rusty."

"You what?! What troubles? Jesus Jack, what the hell?"

"I know, I know I'm an asshole."

"Yes, you really are. So I'm guessing your little revelation, along with Justine's death is how you ended up in the bar."

"I was just going to sit on that old stool. I just wanted to remember how all three of us joked together. I wanted to remember her more than anything else, and I couldn't. All the little details were just that, scattered and I couldn't make them whole. I couldn't mingle all the elements and make her this whole person again. I wondered if she was disappointed in me like I thought Sharon was and the thought of her, of all people disappointed in me just overwhelmed me and I ordered my first drink in twenty years. I was then going to ring Sharon, I was so close..."

"And?"

“I changed my mind, I needed to see her instead, that’s why I came here. I wanted her to not just hear my anguished voice on the phone, I wanted her to see me and see how broken up I was about what I said to her and how stupid I've been. I heard she wasn’t at home and I wanted her to know about Justine and Trent..."

"No, forget that idea right now. You're not going to manipulate her like that. You want to show her that you're sorry? You want absolution? Then get it by being the person you need to be for your children, and respect their mother enough by letting her go."

Andy looked at the clock on the wall. It was going to be light soon and there was no way he was going to be able to get this idiot off his couch any time soon. Jack wasn't saying anything, he had picked a spot on the wall to stare at and Andy wasn't sure if the guy had listened to anything he had said or was simply trying to numb himself to everything. He'd done what he could for the guy but he knew there were new limits to this thing he couldn't call a friendship any more.

"You know that saying of yours is all backwards." Andy said as he left his chair to walk down the hallway.

"Which saying?" Jack yelled back suddenly realising his friend had moved.

"One for joy, two for grief."

"What do you mean?" 

Andy came back into the room flicking a business card between his fingers.

"It's one for sorrow, two for joy, three for...I can't remember, but it's a nursery rhyme about birds and luck - magpies I think, and how many of them you see determines your luck. I would have thought as a gambler you would have understood the reference."

"You're forgetting, I was a drinker before I gambled. Luck was never my strong point, neither was understanding references apparently." 

“Well, it's time to stop counting birds Jack. Here, take this…"

Andy handed him the business card and Jack looked it over. He didn't know where his glasses were and nothing was particularly clear for him at the moment, so he moved it back and forward in front of his eyes till he could at least make out some of the words.

"When you can see a bit clearer you'll see that I've given you the details of a drug and alcohol counsellor. He's low key but he won't tolerate bullshit. If you want to make amends then start there."

Jack just nodded, he knew what he needed to do and he was glad that at the very least his old friend had decided to help him out one last time. He put the card in his pocket and looked around at the place he found himself in. Andy followed his survey of the room and rolled his eyes.

"You can stay just this one night, on that couch. But you're gone by the morning do you understand?"

"You don't ha..."

"Oh shut up already! I need my sleep, don't make me regret this."

Andy got up and headed to his bedroom.

"Andy,"

"What?" He turned around scratching his head.

"Don't tell Sharon about this, about all of this. I'll fix things, I'll stay away but a big part of me still worries what she thinks of me, and I can't have her hate me. I'll do what you said, make it up to her another way - call my kids, make an effort, but just don't tell her I was here."

Andy let out a sigh and slumped his shoulders. He didn't want Sharon knowing he was here anymore than Jack did, but he wasn't about to let him know that.

"I'll make you a deal. You leave tomorrow, contact that counsellor, start making a real effort, and I'll keep my mouth shut. Deal?"

"Yeah sure, deal it is."

"Good, now if you don't mind I'd like to actually get some sleep in before the sun rises. Goodnight!"

"Yeah sure, goodnight and thanks again."

"Yeah, yeah." Andy mumbled down the hallway.

—————-

_Beep Beep Beep._

"Jesus, God, what the hell?!"

Andy opened half an eyelid to see the flashing red digits of horror that informed him it was 7am and he needed to get out of bed.

_Beep Beep Beep._

"Damn it, I heard you the first time!" He yelled at the clock he then proceed to smack.  
After a few pathetic attempts he managed to silence the alarm and allowed himself a few moments to slump back on his pillow.

The previous night, or more like the previous few hours ago came back to him and he started listening for the sounds of his unexpected guest in the other room. He could hear a few cars pass by, a neighbour mowing their lawn, and an annoyingly chirpy set of birds right outside his window but nothing more.

Getting out of bed was no more easier than it had been last night, but his curiosity got the better of him and he had to know whether the big lump was still hijacking his couch. It had only been a few hours so he imagined Jack was still sleeping off his headache. 

When he did get to the lounge room he was surprised to see not only was the lump gone, but that he had managed to straighten all the pillows and even stacked the magazines neatly on the coffee table, and it was on those magazines that something drew Andy's eye. 

It was a letter using some old stationery he had kept in the kitchen. He didn't use the stuff much - who wrote letters any more when it was so easy to email? 

He picked up the envelope and saw his name staring back at him. It was obvious who it was from and he figured he knew that the contents would be an anecdote of remorse and promises. He'd seen these types of letters before, hell he'd even wrote a few back in the day. He didn't need to read the letter, nor did he want to. 

So he lifted it up just enough so the light from the window would pierce through the paper, checking that the letter was all the envelope contained, and content that he couldn't see anything else, he started to rip the top of the letter, only coming to a stop when those damn birds started up again. He couldn't rip it up completely, but he couldn't read it either. 

Maybe it was the birds, maybe it was what they represented - luck, second chances, he wasn't superstitious, but the guy had made the effort to put his words down, and while he had no desire to read them, he didn’t have it in him to destroy them. 

So the letter was to stay in a draw collecting dust, unread but not completely forgotten. He only hoped that whatever promise of self-improvement was written there would be upheld, and not so easily discarded the next time a little weakness made itself known.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was a little bit of an experiment of mine as I tried to piece together how Andy and Jack knew each other from the little insights we were given in the show. I think I’ve been a lot kinder to Jack here than the show has, but I figure I’d use this story as an excuse to explore why he’s was such a lousy husband. I certainly didn’t want to justify his behaviour but I figure everyone has their own reasoning for doing what they do so why not explore that. This is just a one off piece but I hope you enjoyed it while we wait for another new episode of season 3 :)


End file.
